Alone in BXL

A fellow blogger advised me to keep on writing, even at those times when it’s most painful. So here I go – advice accepted.
When I was in Brussels almost the entire month of May, I really needed the peace and quiet of my own apartment to go home to in the evenings, after long days in hospitals and at my parents. Mostly however, those evenings and nights were not so quiet and peaceful. Nope, they were rather filled with anxiety attacks, hyper ventilation, and crying out loud with my face buried in a pillow. Then, after a few weeks, and mostly in Barbizon, I found my sleep back, and some peace of mind. And, I was never alone.

Back in Brussels since Saturday evening, I find myself fighting against the fear of being alone again. The fear of crashing again. The fear of sitting here at 4.00 AM in the morning, feeling myself tear apart with grief. I’ve tried the only life line I can think of : calling P. 2 out of 3 evenings…no luck. So now it’s back to writing – hopefully that will do more good than just lying in bed, being worn out by a) anger b) sadness.

Almost 7 hours of waiting in a hospital room (for blood results, for the doctor, for the chemo, for whatever). Getting the reality smacked in my face again. Seeing my mom and how brave she is. And ironically, by listening to her determination to heal, being very very afraid myself of the possibility that she won’t. I love her so much. I just can’t imagine losing her. Can’t. Not possible.
That was my day. I had to tell it to someone. Thanks for listening/reading.